


Dancing in Rose Garden

by RedSnowWhite



Series: Writing Prompts, Terribly Misused [5]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Dancing, Dildos, Dom/sub Undertones, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Blow Jobs, Public Sex, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex Club, Size Difference, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:48:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,435
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26813146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSnowWhite/pseuds/RedSnowWhite
Summary: It all sounded incredibly dirty and perverted but rather ordinary when Kevin had heard about it for the first time. From his boss, of all people. So, basically, another kinky sex club, right?No, apparently. Because people went there todance.
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Series: Writing Prompts, Terribly Misused [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1955464
Comments: 3
Kudos: 63
Collections: Prose From the Abyss





	Dancing in Rose Garden

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Dancing

Even among illegal night clubs, Rose Garden was an anomaly. First, because there was nothing strictly “illegal” about it. No weird drugs on offer, no involvement in the sex trade, nobody showing up in hospitals or morgues with inexplicable injuries after a visit there, no explicit danger of getting a knife in your gut or a fist in your face if you talked wrong to the wrong person. Just some people meeting every other night to dance.

The second atypical thing about Rose Garden was the care the management took to screen the clients. You couldn’t just go there and expect to be admitted. You had to have an invitation from another patron, and even then, the two smartly dressed bouncers in front of the door could send you away. That is unless you agreed to pay a “small” fee and “donate” some blood. Then, one of the guards would lead you to a squeaky-clean room nearby, where you’ll be expected to let a pretty nurse stick a needle in you. After that, they’ll tell you to scram anyway. But you would be allowed to return if the tests came back clean. And after that, they’ll keep letting you in as long as it stayed that way.

(The tests were only valid for a month. The nurse’s name was Amy, and you’ll soon know the names of her three kids and become privy to their various school problems.)

The third atypical thing about Rose Garden was that, aside from the monthly testing fee, one-third of its clients did not pay for anything while inside.

It all depended on what kind of “rose” you decided you wanted to be on a given night. You showed the bouncers your ID and a valid blood test token, then told them the color, and they gave you a wristband. You had three to choose from: blue, white and red. Blues paid a handsome entrance fee; whites paid only for their drinks. As for Reds, they didn’t pay for anything at all. In fact, Reds were expected to have no money on them - they left their belongings in a secure locker before they entered the club proper.

Sometimes, with all of their clothes.

Your rose’s color showed others what you were there for and what you were allowed or expected to do.

The Whites were just there to watch. They could talk to each other and the Blues and they could buy drinks. But they couldn’t interact with the Reds. And they weren’t allowed on the dance floor.

The Blues rarely drank much. They were there to explore, and that was done best with a clear head. They couldn’t touch the Whites, but other Blues were fair game, as long as they gave consent.

The Reds gave consent just by being Reds. They were expected to stay on the dance floor unless accompanied by a Blue. They also never bought their own drinks - that was Blues’ job. Their only duty was to have fun and stay “accessible”.

For a Red, being “accessible” meant to have their holes exposed. Many forgo clothes entirely, but most sported some rather creative outfits - tops without bottoms, pants without the seat, miniskirts without underwear. Usually, there were also a lot of clothes with strategically placed openings. This way, a Blue - any Blue - could just walk to a Red and have at their ass and/or pussy with impunity.

It all sounded incredibly dirty and perverted but rather ordinary when Kevin had heard about it for the first time. From his boss, of all people. So, basically, another kinky sex club, right?

No, said Mark. Because people went there to _dance_.

Kevin hadn’t understood the distinction. Nor the appeal, to be honest. But his boss gave him this knowing smile, then said he’ll get Kevin an invitation. A week later, Kevin did the required tests - which was a bother, even if the nurse _was_ very nice - then, after the results came back, they let him in.

He went as a White, at first.

***

“Hi, Mark. You look good in casual clothing,” escaped Kevin’s mouth, as they went past the bouncers and into a surprisingly wide corridor.

His boss, who was wearing a tight black top and black jeans with a prominent silver zipper, got the door for him. “You, too. This shade of green really suits you.”

Kevin almost lost a step at that. Was this the kind of relationship they were going to have from now on? Now that they started visiting sex clubs together...?

You started this conversation yourself, he thought. So no take-backs.

And what was up with that zipper? The bulge beneath it seemed huge, now that Kevin noticed it, and the bloody silver thing made Kevin _keep_ noticing.

Maybe that was the point, though. Because a skinny guy in smart pants and a white dress shirt, who entered the corridor through a side door, also couldn’t help but get his eyes glued to Mark’s crotch. He only looked at Kevin’s boss’ face a few heartbeats later. The guy smiled at Mark briefly, turned away, and went ahead of them. A red band over his wrist was - for some reason - the first thing Kevin noticed. Only after that did he realize the guy’s dress pants had a hole trimmed with white ribbon instead of a seat. Kevin could see a wet gloss of lube between the exposed cheeks. He had trouble looking away.

“That’s the changing room for Reds,” said Mark, as the door opened again, and a busty blond girl walked past them. Completely naked.

“Women come here, too?”

“Yeah, it’s coed. Sorry, didn’t I tell you that? But it only really matters when you’re a Red. If you ask one of the Reds off the dance floor, they’ll just refuse you if you’re the wrong gender. Though on the floor, it doesn’t matter all that much.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see,” half-screamed Mark, as they went through another door and entered the Red Rose proper, the loud music enveloping them.

Kevin’s eyes immediately went to the infamous dance floor. He didn’t know what he was expecting, an all-out orgy, perhaps.

He was and wasn’t right at the same time.

The dance floor was huge, taking most of the club’s space, and surprisingly well-lit. On it, a mass of people writhed together. Most of them were clothed, though, and at first glance, the scene wasn’t that different from the one you could expect at a regular dance club.

Then, an auburn-haired girl in a short skirt, no top, danced into Kevin’s line of sight. She was sandwiched between a guy and another woman, swaying her hips suggestively, hands up, her red bracelet clearly visible. Then, the woman embracing her from the front leaned in some more, put a fist in the auburn hair, and started kissing the girl. The guy at the girl’s back pushed them closer together. His shoulder kept moving rhythmically with the music - and that’s when Kevin realized the guy must be pushing his fingers in and out of the girl’s ass or pussy.

The skinny man they passed in the corridor earlier skimmed by the trio, the white frame around his ass glowing in the ultraviolet light. An anonymous hand slid out from the crowd; two of its digits dipped into his lubed hole, pumped twice, then disappeared again. The man kept going, didn’t even turn around.

Kevin skimmed the crowd for that other girl, the busty blond, the naked one they also passed earlier, but couldn’t see her anywhere. Instead, he started noticing other naked, or almost naked, people among the dancers. He spayed two tall and muscular young guys further in, one blond and the other dark-haired. Both really cute. Both without clothes. They undulated against each other, their bodies slick with something, sweat or oil, Kevin couldn’t tell. Four powerful thighs gleamed while they moved, intertwined to the point where it was hard to tell which limb belonged to whom. Sometimes there was a glimpse of a clean-shaven ball sack. No visible penises, though. Kevin turned his head this way and that, trying to see better.

Then, a man in leather pants, with a hard cock hanging out, approached the blond one from behind, bent his knees, and thrust home. The muscular young man stiffened for a fraction of a second, then spread his legs more. He began moving together with the guy taking him to the low, steady beat of the music. For a while, the blonde’s hole took the deep pumps eagerly. Then, the other naked guy, the one plastered to the blond’s front, yanked his dance partner off the leather-clad man’s cock mid-thrust, turned the two of them around, and shook his own ass in invitation. It was full of cock soon after.

Kevin shuddered.

“Come on, let’s go up to the balconies. The view’s better from there,” said Mark, then took Kevin by the sweaty hand and led him upstairs.

What Kevin thought was the ceiling turned out to be the floor of a big balcony. It surrounded the entire dance floor. People leaned against the railing to observe the dancers. Some gathered in groups near the walls and in front of an array of alcoves of sorts. It seemed something worth seeing was happening there, but Mark led Kevin past them, to the bar on the opposite side.

“Hello, Dan. Quite a crowd you have here tonight,” Mark said to the bartender.

“And seems you decided to add to it some.” The bartender was an imposingly huge man with thick long hair gathered into a ponytail, mahogany skin, and laughing eyes. “Hello, there. New here? You’re a White tonight?”

“Yeah. Seemed smarter to start with. My name’s Kevin.”

“Dan.”

Kevin shook Dan’s broad hand. It was warm, powerful, and attached to a deliciously muscular forearm. He zoned out for a bit, realized what he was doing, felt the heat of a blush envelop his face, and hastily let go.

“Nervous?”

“Yea. Sorry.” Kevin, embarrassed, tried to look anywhere but at Dan and Mark.

Dan’s laugh was deep, low, and at least as delicious as the rest of him. “No problem, at first everyone is.”

Nearby, leaning against the handrail, was a short and slim guy, sort of elf-like looking. His outfit, all soft and frilly straps - sparse as they were - amplified the otherworldly impression.

Framed by the frills and ribbons was a huge neon-blue dildo sticking out of the guy’s ass.

Kevin looked away and down.

Suddenly, Mark was there, his breath in Kevin’s ear.

“Seen something you like?”

Kevin eyed the elfling from the corner of his eyes.

How was that thing not falling out? Hell, how was it possible to fit something so big in so small a body?!

“Oh. I see,” said Mark quietly. Then louder, to Dan, “be a dear and give my friend a beer, it’s on me. I’ll be right back.” Then, he went to the elf-guy and unceremoniously grabbed the dildo by the base. He started pushing it in and out in long, deliberate strokes, almost taking the entire thing out as he pulled. And God, was there _a lot_ to pull out. Kevin was so transfixed he barely noticed the beer that landed by his elbow and Dan’s low chuckle when the bartender left to serve another client.

Mark said something to the guy he was toy-fucking, then looked right at Kevin. And instead of pushing in slowly, he thrust hard. The elfling shrieked so loud Kevin heard him over the music, then laughed, joyful and free, and bent over some more. Mark smirked and kept looking right at Kevin as he put some actual strength into his arm’s movements. It wasn’t long before the elf-guy shuddered and spasmed - came - but Mark didn’t stop. He kept thrusting the enormous thing into the petite body, even after it started squirming against the wooden railing, to escape the brutal overstimulation. He only stopped when a slender hand batted at him in admonition. Mark laughed, thrust the neon-blue dildo all the way in one last time, spanked the slim butt playfully, then returned to the bar, to Kevin.

“Holy fuck,” was out of Kevin’s mouth before his brain had a chance to kick back into gear.

“Holy fuck indeed,” Mark said, then stole the forgotten beer from Kevin and took a big gulp.

The elf-guy didn’t pull the dildo out yet. Kevin started to suspect he wasn’t going to.

“Is it always like this, here?”

“Well, it’s the weekend, and the end of the month, so it’s a tad bit busier. But yea. It’s like this.”

“Holy fuck.”

“Kevin, Kevin, Kevin.” Mark grinned. “You’ve seen nothing yet.” He returned the beer to Kevin and yelled, “Dan! Give him a pair of glasses!”

The bartender nodded, then brought them tiny silver binoculars, the kind people get at the opera. He passed them to Kevin while Mark paid.

“Come on,” Mark said, “go take another look at that dance floor.”

“And you?”

“Why, li’l ol’ me? Obviously, I’m gonna go down there and get movin’.” Mark punctuated his words with a suggestive thrust of the hips - that damn silver zipper of his shining in the light - then left.

Kevin eyed the railing, which was rather crowded. And the only relatively free space seemed to be beside the elf-guy whose asshole Mark had just brutalized. Kevin gulped and went to stand there anyway.

The guy seemed okay, at least, if a tad flushed. Kevin glanced at the pair of slim wrists, and there it was. A red band. Mark said Whites weren’t allowed to talk to Reds, so Kevin didn’t. But Mark also said Reds were supposed to stay on the dance floor.

Unless a Blue was accompanying them, that is.

“Well, well, well,” said an amused voice from behind them. “Look at you. I leave for ten minutes, and it’s enough for you to get busy. A guy can’t even get a bathroom break with you around. You’re bloody impossible.”

“Do kindly shut your trap,” the elfling answered.

The voice must belong to the missing Blue, then.

Kevin sipped at his beer as he turned a bit and side-eyed the newcomer curiously.

Well, fuck me. If the elf-guy gets to take someone like this up his ass regularly, then no wonder he needs a monster dildo to prepare.

The guy was _huge_ , bigger even than Dan the Bartender - not broader, but taller. Much taller. The elfling looked like a kid beside him, all lean lines and slender bones. The giant almost had to bend in two to bite his partner on the neck.

“Had a good time, hmmm?”

The elf-guy muttered something under his breath.

“No?”

“Take that thing out of me...?”

“No.”

“Please...?”

“No.”

“Oh come on, Sven, the guy who did me just now was a savage.”

“Oh?”

“Owww...! Fuck, wait, no! Stop that! I’ve had enough!”

“Love, you’ll _never_ have enough.”

“Honestly, you... Okay, fine. But, ow, not the toy.”

“Hmmm?”

“Yours. Your cock, Sven. You.”

The elf-guy was half-lifted and half-climbed over the railing himself, then sort of fell back.

With a throaty moan.

That moan did things to Kevin.

The giant pushed his much smaller partner against the wood of the barrier, his mighty hips flush against the frill-clad ass, then found a nice rhythm.

Seriously, the elfling’s feet didn’t even touch the ground anymore, and his torso didn’t hang over the dance floor only because the giant held him with hands as big as dinner plates.

Kevin was... in a state.

Fuck you, Mark, he thought.

Oh yesss, fuck you, Mark, added his subconsciousness unhelpfully.

God, couldn’t those two be less loud?

Not knowing what else to do, Kevin put the binoculars to his eyes and looked down. Immediately, a pair of bodies overtook his field of vision: a girl and a guy, with matching clothes. For a definition of matching: had you put both of their outfits together, you would’ve gotten yourself a complete set, as the woman was missing the top part, and the man the bottom one. The result was visually appealing in a strange way, but it wasn’t what Kevin was looking for. It was the men he was interested in, mostly anyway - or one man in particular - so he moved on. He skimmed his gaze over the pulsing tangle of bodies until he found it.

There was Mark, his front turned Kevin’s way. He had a blissed-out look on his face, his head thrown back. Behind him was a shorter man, and they were swaying together as the man sucked on Mark’s neck. Mark’s pants were open, the stupid silver zipper shaped like a shiny V, but Kevin could only see his boss’ pubic hair. Mark’s penis was still tucked in, if visibly hard. Kevin’s eyes focused on Mark’s crotch against his will - stupid zipper - and the fabric there seemed curiously tight...?

Oh.

Oh fuck.

The neck-sucking was only partially responsible for the blissed-out look on Mark’s face, as it turned out.

Kevin could hardly breathe.

The shorter man had his hand stuck into the back of Mark’s pants.

He was fingering Mark’s asshole.

Oh.

And Mark.

Mark seemed to like it.

He seemed to like it a lot.

Some assumptions Kevin had about Mark rearranged themselves in his head.

It’s possible Mark liked to bottom.

No, Mark was his boss.

That liked to bottom.

You don’t know that for sure.

You could ask?

Your. Boss.

Kevin’s scrambling thoughts refocused again when Mark grabbed a guy that was dancing by - a naked Red - and pulled him close. They started kissing. Then, Mark pushed the guy down.

The naked body slid against Mark’s - in a rhythmic, hypnotizing way, muscles coiling, bones liquid, that reminded Kevin it was a dance floor down there. At last, the naked guy knelt, spread his legs unnecessarily wide - what a showoff - and untucked Mark’s penis. It sprang out of the V of Mark’s pants, red and heavy, and bloody perfect, and hit the kneeling guy in the face. That didn’t seem to bother him, though, because he put his mouth on it immediately after.

Suddenly, the short guy reached from behind Mark and grabbed the gracefully bobbing head, then forced Mark’s penis all the way down the kneeling man’s throat.

Mark opened his mouth in a scream Kevin sadly couldn’t hear.

The shorter man had a powerful pair of arms on him, judging by the way he started slamming the kneeling guy’s face into Mark’s crotch with one and his own fingers into Mark’s asshole with the other. Was that wet shine in Mark’s eyes tears?

Mark came.

Oh.

The kneeling guy staggered back when he was released, then climbed Mark like a tree to get at Mark’s mouth, and fuck, that was hot. The short man pulled his hand out from Mark’s pants, and some other short person immediately took his place; Kevin couldn’t see who. Then, the short man went behind the naked guy who just gave Mark a blowjob, opened up his pants, and slid home, and Kevin couldn’t take it anymore.

He went back to the bar. He needed something cold to drink.

Or to bathe in.

“Nice show?” asked Dan the Bartender.

“I can’t even.”

Dan laughed. “Yeah, I know how that feels.” He put another beer before Kevin. “This one’s on the house.”

Kevin rubbed his face with his hands. “God. How the hell am I supposed to look him in the face at the office?” he muttered.

“That bad?” said Dan.

“Worse,” said Kevin.

He drank his beer. Stared into space.

Damn. Kevin’s balls were starting to sort of hurt. He put his face in his hands again.

Finally, Dan took pity on him again. “Look.”

“What,” Kevin mumbled from behind his fingers.

“Look. I might have a piece of advice for you. Just don’t be offended, all right?”

“Fine. I’m listening.”

“Give as good as you got.”

“What do you mean?”

“Come here again, with him. Wait for him to pick a color, then pick the opposite one. You know what they say.”

“What? That misery loves company?”

“No. That payback’s a bitch.”

“Who’re we paying back?” asked Mark just then, as he approached the bar. “For what?”

“Nothing,” said Kevin and Dan together.

“Seriously, tho. What did I miss?”

“Nothing,” Kevin insisted.

“Oh, come on.”

Kevin side-eyed that stupid zipper, then the band on Mark’s wrist. He smiled into his beer.

Blue suited Mark. But then, Red would’ve suited him, too.

And Kevin wouldn’t mind either.

He wouldn’t mind at all.


End file.
